His Wedding-Night Heir (23 page)

sweetheart. What the hell did you think you were doing?'

'I—-I didn't go to the cottage deliberately,' she said in a low

voice. 'It was all a chapter of accidents. I rescued Mr Miller's

dog, and got bitten, and he insisted I go back with him to have

my hand seen to and shelter from the rain.' She paused. 'But I

wasn't snooping.'

'Did I suggest that you were?' Nick pulled the car over to the

side of the road and stopped on the verge. He said, more

gently, 'Cally, we can't go on like this. There are things that

need to be said, particularly now.' His mouth tightened. 'And I

need to tell you—explain about Vanessa. I should have done

it long ago.'

'There's no need.' It hurt to breathe, let alone speak. 'Because I

already know the whole story.'

His brows snapped together in disbelief. 'She told you?'

'No,' she said. 'No, I knew—before.'

'I don't believe it,' Nick said, after a pause. 'How could you?

We've always been so careful...' He stopped, apparently

giving himself a mental shake. 'So where did you hear it?'

She said wearily, 'From Adele, naturally. Who else? She

implied it was common gossip,' she added, after an uncertain

pause. She'd opened up a can of worms here, she realised ner-

vously. His next question was bound to be, Is that why you

left me? And she wasn’t sure she could survive the kind of

revelations that were bound to follow.

'Adele,' he said quietly. 'My God—Adele. It beggars belief.

But it will have to be dealt with. I've also left that too long.'

He paused. 'So what did you talk about with Vanessa?'

She managed a shrug. 'Not a great deal. She gave me some

unwanted advice, then asked me not to mention your relation-

ship with her to her father.'

He looked at her, his brows raised. 'And you agreed?'

'Why not?' She braced herself. 'It's really of no concern or

interest to me. After all, I'm unlikely to meet Mrs Layton

again, or her father.'

He said carefully, 'I hoped you might be a little more un-

derstanding. She's been having a really bad time of late.'

'So her father said,' Cally said coldly. 'According to him, she's

practically a saint. The perfect wife.'

'I think she was,' Nick returned with equal frotdeur. 'Until that

motorway pile-up intervened. Now she's in limbo.'

No, Cally thought, with sudden violence. She has you. I'm the

one in limbo!

Aloud, she said. 'Perhaps we should go. Your mother will be

waiting.'

'My mother is resting after a hellish flight,' he returned. 'And

there are still matters we need to deal with, especially as we're

talking about Vanessa.'

'Don't tell me,' Cally said with bitter irony. 'You and the

tenant of Southwood Cottage are simply good friends?'

'It would be better if you could refrain from mentioning her at

all.' He hesitated. 'In fact, that's essential.'

'You mean your mother still has illusions?' Cally shrugged

again. 'But, what the hell? Consider it done. Was there any-

thing else?'

'A few things come to mind,' Nick said slowly. 'Such as when

were you going to share your precious secret with me— tell

me you were having my baby? Or did you hope it would all

go away and you'd wake up one morning to find it was all a

bad dream?'

Cally flushed. Naturally before I said anything I wanted to be

absolutely sure.'

'Which symptoms would have convinced you?' Nick asked

grimly. 'Actually going into labour?'

Her colour deepened. 'Kindly don't laugh at me.'

'Believe me,' he said, 'I've never felt less like laughing in my

entire life.'

'Anyway, it wasn't much of a secret, because you've known all

along,' she said tautly. 'You even told your—your Mrs

Layton. And I expect you broke the news to your mother, too,

and that's why she's arrived early.'

'It's her first grandchild,' he said. 'She's bound to be delighted.

And she'll expect us to be thrilled too, so your performance as

devoted wife will need to be stepped up a notch.'

'Don't worry,' Cally returned, 'I'm becoming quite expert at

fooling people.'

Nick's smile was swift and hard. 'How very true.'

'Perhaps you need a little practice, too,' she said. 'For someone

who's got exactly what he wanted, you're hardly jumping for

joy.'

'I felt you might regard such displays as tactless.'

'Why?' She didn't look at him. 'After all, I'll soon be getting

what I want too.'

'Of course,' he said sardonically. 'I almost forgot. So, shall we

behave like prospective parents, Cally? Shall we hold each

other and cry with happiness? Shall we argue about whether

we're having a girl or a boy, and make lists of names and

bicker over them? Then get serious and discuss schools and

universities, and future careers for the tiny thing growing

inside you?' He took her chin, making her face him, the

silvery eyes glittering like ice. 'Shall I make sure, my sweet

wife, that not even a breeze blows on you too roughly over the

next seven months?'

If only, her heart cried out to him. Oh, God, if only...

And she suddenly had an image of Vanessa Layton's face,

smiling faintly. An image that would haunt her, she knew,

through all the remaining days she spent with Nick.

Her stomach began to churn again, in rejection and jealousy,

and there were tears, hot and heavy, in her chest. Her voice

sounded thick as she jerked her head away, scared of what he

might read in her eyes. 'Or shall we just congratulate each

other on a successful deal?'

She undid her seatbelt and fumbled for the door handle. 'And

now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be sick.'

The doctor that Nick had insisted on calling was a woman,

slim and blonde, in her early thirties, who was quick to be

reassuring.

'No, there's no need for you to be wrapped in cotton wool, but

your husband is right to err on the side of caution. Basically

you seem very well, Lady Tempest, if a little tense, so enjoy

some pampering, and I'll see you next week for the necessary

tests and paperwork.' She paused. 'I don't know if Sir Nicholas

is planning for you to have the baby in London, but I can

assure you that the hospital at Clayminster has an excellent

obstetric unit. In fact, I can personally recommend it.'

She got to her feet. 'One more thing. For the next few weeks,

it might be as well to put marital relations on hold—just to be

on the safe side.'

'Yes,' Cally said woodenly. 'Of course.'

'I realise this won't be easy, as you haven't been married very

long, but you can resume around the fourth month,' Dr

Hanson went on. Her smile had an engaging twinkle. 'Some

people find it gets even better.'

She picked up her bag. 'By the way, your husband was ob-

viously concerned when, as he was bringing you home earlier,

you began to cry and couldn't stop. But I explained that hor-

monal changes might well make you a little weepy and

grouchy at first.'

Cally flushed. She said, with a touch of constraint, 'I think it

was more the humiliation of having him hold my head while I

threw up in front of him at the side of the road.'

'I think he took it all in his stride.' The doctor gave her a

sympathetic look. 'After all, it's his baby too. I was sick with

both my boys, but it stopped in the third month, thank heaven.

Unless you're very unlucky, you'll probably find the same.'

Cally forced a smile. 'I'll just have to hope for the best.'

She was lying back against the pillows, gazing listlessly into

space, a few minutes later when Nick came in.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. 'How do you feel?'

'Much too well to be lying down like an invalid,' she admitted

stiltedly. 'And I'm starving too.'

'Good.' He paused. 'Does that mean you'll be joining us for

dinner?'

'I think so. I still have to meet your mother.' She played with

the sash of her dressing gown. 'I—I won't mention Mrs

Layton, I give you my word.'

'Thank you.' He was frowning a little. 'I'm sorry to burden you

with this, but Vanessa had planned to be away again next

week when my mother was due to arrive.'

Cally took a deep breath. 'She's the soul of discretion, isn't

she?'

He stared at her. He said slowly, 'You sound as if you blame

her for this mess.'

'I'm not out to apportion blame,' Cally told him shortly.

'Besides, it's really none of my business.'

She thought she detected a note of bitterness in his brief sigh,

but all he said was, 'Then let's try and have a pleasant meal.'

He paused. 'Do you need help to bathe and change?'

She stiffened defensively. 'No—thank you.'

His voice slowed to the drawl she hated. 'Don't get paranoid,

darling. I wasn't volunteering. Margaret offered to lend a

hand, that's all.'

'That's-—kind of her. But I can manage.' Her smile was small

and pinched. 'I don't have to be treated with kid gloves. And

morning sickness is an inconvenience, not an illness. I'll be

fine.'

He got to his feet. 'Then I'll see you downstairs in an hour.'

For a moment Cally thought he was going to bend down and

kiss her, and felt the uncontrollable flutter of her pulses. But

he simply walked over to the communicating door and disap-

peared.

Cally stared after him, her lip caught between her teeth. She

hadn't simply been lying here on the bed feeling sorry for

herself. She'd been working on a strategy designed to detach

Nick from her heart and mind, and curb all the stupid, futile

longings that still tormented her.

And Dr Hanson's comments about sex had provided her with

an emergency plan, which meant that from now on that door

was going to become the non-communicating sort, with Nick

on one side and herself very firmly on the other.

Because keeping him physically at a distance might be her

only means of survival if she was to see the pregnancy deal

through to its bitter end.

She would, she thought later, have known Nick's mother any-

where. Dr Tempest was a tall, slender woman, her grey-

streaked dark hair drawn severely back from her face into a

bun, revealing the elegant chiselling of her face. It was

obvious where Nick had got his marvellous bone structure,

and those amazing eyes.

Her greeting to her new daughter-in-law, as they met over

drinks in the drawing room, was friendly but not

overpoweringly so. She was, Cally realised, reserving

judgement.

'I think pregnancy was marginally easier in the days when I

was having Nick,' she remarked. There weren't so many scares

and taboos then. But there were no scans either, to tell you the

baby's sex. You had to wait for the midwife's pronouncement.'

She accepted the martini Nick had mixed for her. 'Do you

want to know in advance, Caroline, whether it's a boy or a

girl?'

Cally shook her head. 'I—I don't think I mind.'

'Well, I want a girl.' Nick brought her a glass of freshly

squeezed orange juice and smiled at her. 'But only if she looks

like her mother.'

Cally flushed, and was aware that Dr Tempest's brows had

lifted slightly.

Rather overdoing it there, Nick, she told him silently. I’m no

one's idea of a beauty. And if, as you claim, this is your one

chance, then you'll require a son and heir.

Over dinner, she learned that Dr Tempest would not be

spending all her leave with them. She intended to use the Hall

as a base, certainly, but her lecture tour would take her all

round the British Isles.

She was a wonderful talker, with a droll sense of humour,

keeping them endlessly entertained during the meal and the

coffee that followed with descriptions of life on the dig, and

the various personalities—most of them diametrically

opposed to each other-—that she had to deal with—and often

reconcile.

But Cally was aware at the same time that she was being

watched and assessed by that shrewd silvery gaze, and it made

her feel uneasy.

She also realised that, however deep in the Guatemalan jungle

Dr Tempest had been, she was still au fait with what was

happening at Wylstone, which meant that she and Nick were

in much more regular correspondence than Cally had sus-

pected.

‘I hope,' she said at one point, 'that Ranald's abominable